


Dead of Night

by ratedemily



Category: Youtube RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M, Second person POV, zombie apocalypse AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-21 09:37:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3687366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratedemily/pseuds/ratedemily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is four years in the future. An unclassified disease has spread throughout over half of the population, turning them into hostile, brain-dead zombies. Jack, left alone amidst all the chaos, is fending for himself when he stumbles upon someone whom he had never thought he would see again...</p><p>And that's when everything changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

It had started the same as any other day.

Your channel had around 9,000,000 subscribers at the time, still rising. That enormous amount of people watching your content was once something you had never thought possible, and yet now the numbers were right there in front of you every time you logged into Youtube. And you couldn't have been prouder. Of course, it wasn't as if numbers particularly mattered to you; you were happy if even just one person smiled or laughed because of your videos. But to think that that many people had found joy in the silly videos you made was just... it was indescribable.

Mark, on the other hand, had been doing exponentially well. At the time, he had _the_ fastest growing channel on Youtube, with more than 17,000,000 subscribers and counting. You wouldn't hesitate to say you were proud of the goofball. He deserved it.

Meanwhile, Aaron, Wade, and Bob were all still running their own channels. Bob and Mandy had been expecting a child, and Wade was in the middle of helping Molly set up her own let's play channel. The greatly anticipated new horror series from Scott Cawthorn had also been just about to kick off, which Aaron was extremely thrilled about. That dude had a broner for that man ever since the first Five Nights at Freddy's came out, you swore it.

All in all, two years doesn't really change that much.

The night it happened, you had been in the middle of recording a “Reading Your Comments” video. You were just about to finish off with your outro when you heard a loud banging on your apartment's front door, successfully cutting of your, “If you liked it, PUNCH that like button IN the--”

You had no idea who it could've been. You had no friends who ever stopped by, and your parents or siblings would have warned you beforehand if they were coming over, but even _that_ was a stretch. Confused and a little bit peeved at the sudden interruption, you had gotten up from your desk chair and went to go see what was up. Not a big deal, since you could just record the outro again and stick it in during editing, but you usually preferred _not_ to do that.

The rapping on the door had continued, which was followed by an annoyed “yeah, yeah” from you. Approaching the door, you looked into the peep hole to see who it was, and were surprised to find your neighbor on the other side, looking rather antsy. _Strange_ , you had thought to yourself. Maybe you had managed to be too loud for once?

You were even more confused when you opened the door and your neighbor didn't speak word to you. Instead, they looked down to their arm and shakily held it out for you to see. Not quite understanding fully, you skeptically glanced down at their arm.

What you had seen next scared the living hell out of you.

Embedded in their arm had been a pair of decrepit, human teeth.

。。。

“Coming to you live from Dublin: an unknown disease has spread throughout nearly 30% of the Earth's population overnight. While the initial cause and cure for this outbreak are unknown, government scientists all over the world are under emergency instructions to create a vaccine for it as soon as possible. Until a cure has been found, it is imperative that you do _not_ leave your homes if at all possible, as those infected are extremely dangerous and will not hesitate attack you upon sight. If you should leave your homes, take extreme caution, because the bites of the infected are the number one cause of most disease transmissions. Another way the virus can be transmitted is by inserting any liquids from an infected person's body into your own, so please be careful. For your convenience and our safety, our studio crew will stay here and broadcast any further news to you as it becomes available. Stay safe out there, Ireland.”

“Important news update regarding the recent outbreak: so far, scientists have had little to no success in finding a cure for the disease. Infected rates have increased from 30% to 50% within the past two days, mostly due to people leaving their homes and putting themselves unsafe circumstances. Prime minister Enda Kenny has declared that this will no longer be allowed. Any people that are seen wandering outside will be escorted back to their home by government officials. This may seem drastic, but it is just a matter of your safety. More updates to come.”

“Infected rates have increased from 50% to 60% within the past three days. With more and more people becoming panicked in these dire times, we must remind you to keep your safety in mind and to, under _no_ circumstances, go outside. Authorized government vehicles will be sent out to deliver food and other various supplies to all they can. Do your best not to panic.”

“Unfortunately, there is still no word from scientists. The situation is becoming increasingly hard to control, with more than 65% of the population documented as infected. Those of us here left at the studio aren't sure how much longer we will be able to last, and with a slowly draining emergency energy supply, are also not sure how much more we will be able to broadcast. Even so, we wish you all luck in the weeks to come. This could easily be the beginning of the end.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here it is! the prologue to my new story wow amazing
> 
> make sure u buckle urselves up kiddies because ur in for a very, very wild ride


	2. Chapter 2

Sun was a rare thing in Ireland. In a country that was almost always shrouded by clouds, one little ray of sunshine had been all it took to get everyone out of their homes and on the town. You had never been one of those people, of course; you were just too busy. But the soft streaks of light that had shone from in between the blinds of your windows satisfied you enough. And, just like everyone else who was outside enjoying the warm rays, it made you happy.

Which is why you hated how, ever since this stupid apocalypse started, it's been sunnier in Ireland than you had ever known it to be in your entire goddamn life. Like the sun itself was mocking your happiness and transforming what was once a happy occasion into something that would forever remind you of zombies nearly eating your fucking brains out.

Yeah. You hated the sun.

You sigh, looking out the window at the pastel sunrise for a few more seconds. A cool breeze blows through the small space in between the wooden planks you had boarded up, causing you to shiver. Grimacing, you cross your arms in an attempt to warm yourself up and pad away from the window.

Your temporary living space wasn't exactly what you would call cozy. Or tidy. Or clean. The whole house itself consisted of one bedroom, one bathroom, and one living room, and half of that was taken up by dusty, ragged old pieces of furniture left behind by the house's owner back when things were normal. So there really wasn't that much maneuverability. But it helped keep zombies at bay while you were sleeping, so that was good enough for you.

You shuffle your way past a pile of boxes stacked up next to the couch and make your way to a small chest in the far corner of the room, already knowing what you would find inside. You look down at it in contempt and, kneeling down, slowly undo the lock. A loud creak greets your ears as you lift open the lid, aaand...

Nothing!

Yep, just as you had expected. No magical food gods had graced your little measly excuse for a pantry last night, and you had been out of food for a few days now. You sigh, running a hand through your greasy hair. It was time to face the music. (Because that's totally a thing people said, right?)

You had to go scavenging today.

。。。

You decide to wait until the sun is a little higher in the sky before setting out to go look for food. Zombies usually hid away as soon as the first hint of sunshine shone above the horizon, but it never hurt to be extra safe anyway. Taking your messenger bag lying next to the main doorway and slinging it across your shoulder, you twist the doorknob and cautiously push on it, peering outside. It was quiet, just as you had hoped. Satisfied that it was safe, you push the door out all the way and step onto the sidewalk, shutting it with a soft click behind you.

The house you were staying at for the moment was just on the outskirts of Belfast, so you had to walk a ways before you reached the actual city. It was worth it, though. The haul was usually good. Readjusting the strap on your shoulder, you make your way towards the heart of the city.

Sun rising into the sky as you go, it takes you a good thirty minutes of alternating between walking and checking any dumpsters you come across (with no luck) before you finally start seeing some restaurants, and that's where the real shit was. You had already picked these specific restaurants to the bone, however, so you continue going along.

As you continue walking, your footsteps making tapping noises against the ground, you glance around. Honestly, you were surprised. You would usually see at least one stray zombie by now, but so far it had been absolutely silent aside from the rustling of the foliage in the breeze and the occasional bird. Normally you would revel in a situation like this, but you couldn't help but feel suspicious. Where were all the–?

Suddenly, you hear a low, throaty moan from behind you. And it wasn't your stomach.

 _Shit_.

As quietly and as slowly as you possibly can, you turn your body around just enough to be able to nervously glance behind you. Sure enough, a zombie had somehow made its way into the street only a few meters away, its back to you. How the fuck hadn't you noticed?

Biting your lip, you begin to silently tiptoe away, keeping your eye on the zombie the entire time. Its strange behavior certainly wasn't helping the situation, either; usually they at least stumbled around a bit. This one wasn't moving an inch.

Wait a second.

Your heart skips a beat as the zombie's head suddenly snaps around to face you with a sick cracking noise, mouth hanging agape and sunken eyes burning a hole straight through yours.

 _Oh no_.

You don't spend a single second more staring at the zombie's haggard face as you take off running the other way. An ear-splitting scream sounds from behind you, the noise rattling you to your very core.

“Shit-!” You exclaim, hastily plunging your hand into your messenger bag and pulling out a knife. Your eyes instantly dart up towards the trees as you search for any sign of climbers, but you don't see anything. That's one less thing to worry about, at least.

You risk a quick glance behind you and see a hoard of zombies that had gathered by the caller, looking in your direction and screeching madly. They start rushing towards you and you quickly look ahead once again, trying not to think about how dead you were as you skid to a halt and rush into a side alley. You had to lose them. You had to lose them shit _fuck_ –

You yell as you stumble over a trash can that had been tipped over, landing face-first into the pavement and dropping your knife with a loud clatter. Panicking, you scrabble to pick it up, kicking up rocks with your shoes and ignoring the burning pain in your face from the fall. The undeads' moans were getting _very_ loud all of a sudden.

 _Don't panic, Sean, don't panic_ , you think to yourself, snatching up your knife and hopping back up onto your feet. You continue sprinting in the opposite direction of the zombies, taking a sharp left when you reach the end of the alleyway. Left, right, left, left. Running through the streets, you soon find yourself growing extremely winded. You would need to find a place to stop and rest soon.

Huffing, you search for a hiding place sporadically with your eyes. It takes you only a matter of seconds before you spot a large building in the distance, its doors unboarded. Perfect. Pushing yourself to run faster, you eventually reach the road just in front of it, tossing your body behind the walls of the building opposite the place you wanted to hide and taking a hasty glance at the street you had just ran down. Though their groans and shrieks were still very audible, no zombies were in sight.

Deciding now was as good a time as any, you clutch the strap of your messenger bag and trot towards the building, yanking one of its double doors open and rushing inside. Once you're in and the door is shut, you give the room a once-over to make sure it's safe before collapsing down onto the floor on your hands and knees, breathing erratic.

“Hah... hah... hah...,” you pant, doing your best not to completely black out as dizziness from not eating and exhaustion overcome your senses. Well then. _That's_ where all the zombies were.

You try to catch your breath as best you can as you stuff your knife back into your bag, grunting breathily with the effort of standing back up. Thankful for the rotted boards nailed to the windows and obscuring you from the zombies' vision, you swallow thickly and take this as a chance to get a better look at your current surroundings.

It was a hotel. A pretty shabby looking one at that, but a hotel nonetheless. A little bell sits on the front desk, and as you walk over to it, you experimentally tap on it. It doesn't move or make a sound. Of course not.

You let your hand wander over the granite countertop and pick up dust as you continue looking around. On either side of the desk there was a long hallway, each presumably leading to hotel rooms. No lights shone in either of them, however, leaving them dark and foreboding. Suddenly, you get an idea.

“There've gotta be...,” you mumble thoughtfully to yourself, voice hoarse. You start heading into the hallway on the left, darkness enveloping you more and more with every step. As your eye gradually adjusts to the darkness, you search for what you were looking for; stairs.

Approaching the end of the hall, you just barely manage to make out a sign hanging from the ceiling in the blackness, showing a symbol of stairs and an arrow pointing to the right. Just as you had thought. Turning the handle on the designated door and finding it unlocked, you step into the stairwell and begin ascending.

As your luck would have it, there were a few small windows in the staircase, illuminating it well enough so that you would be sure not to trip and fall on your ass. It takes a minute or two of climbing before you finally reach the top, a tall, metal door to the roof greeting you. Placing your hand on the handle, you find it to be ice cold. You shiver, twisting it and softly pushing out. It opens with surprising ease.

Peeking out, you make triple sure there aren't any climbers on the roof or any roofs nearby before stepping out, the crisp breeze brushing against your face. You sigh. Good. This would allow you to get at least _some_ of your bearings, especially now that that little event had gotten you even more lost. You hadn't really lived around Belfast for long (if you could even call it living), so you still had no idea where the fuck everything was. The fact that it was one of the largest cities in Ireland certainly didn't help, either.

Being careful not to glance down, you gaze out at all the surrounding buildings and try to distinguish between areas you recognized and places you hadn't visited before. Eventually, you manage to make out at least a few places you knew, and so you cast your eye more towards the center of the city. A few slews of restaurants and shopping districts catch your attention, and they didn't look _too_ terribly far away. You decide to head that way for today.

 _Guess that's that, then,_ you think to yourself, turning away from the edge of the roof.

。。。

Once you depart from the hotel and, using heightened caution, traverse through the outer streets of Belfast, you finally manage to reach the strip of shops and eateries you had seen from higher up.

For some reason, the street had a sombre air to it. As you glance around at all the boarded up shops and broken windows, you begin to wonder what this place would have been like during the busiest time of the day, when things weren't crazy. You can picture all kinds of people milling about, chatting and laughing. Carrying Starbucks coffees in their hands and talking on their iPhone 6s. Hanging _way_ too many shopping bags from their arms as they practically skip from store to store. Dodging that one loud, unpleasant person that was always drunk and reeked of stale alcohol; something anyone who lived in Ireland was used to. The imagery makes you smile for a second, until you remember your current situation. A sudden wave of depression hits you at the thought, and you expel the memories of better times out of your mind immediately.

You saunter past an unboarded shop window and catch a glimpse of your reflection in it, and _wow_ did you look like a fuckin' mess. You stop, staring at yourself in the dirty glass. A messy patch of bloodied gauze and medical tape covers your right eye, a prominent red scar running down the length of your face and slightly down your neck. Bruises and scratches cover pretty much any parts of your face that weren't covered by gauze, and your hair was an absolute greasy mess. Your beard had also grown out, although it was patchy and hardly anything you would ever consider a beard. _Wow,_ you think, glaring at your reflection. _Lookin' good, Sean._

You stare at your reflection for a few seconds longer before scoffing, looking away. You couldn't stand seeing your reflection anymore. You looked absolutely disgusting. There were better things to be doing, anyway, like finding some food so you could fucking survive.

It takes you awhile of weaving in and out of the very few accessible stores you could find – an hour, maybe – before you're finally satisfied with what you've found. Most of it was just pre-packaged shite like Pop-Tarts or trail mix, but that was good enough. Stuff like that usually lasted longer anyway. You rest against the brick wall interior of what you had decided to be your last building for today, struggling to open a granola bar with your shaky fingers, which was proving to be quite difficult. You eventually resort to using your canine teeth to tear it open, pulling the wrapping off of the bar and throwing it to the ground. You lick your chapped lips, mouth watering as you take a gigantic bite of the delicacy. Moaning loudly, you hardly even chew it before swallowing, even the mere _feel_ of something going down your throat incredible. Fuck yes.

It takes you only a few seconds later before you manage to devour the entire thing, reaching into your bag and pulling out another. This time, however, you use whatever self-control you have left to slow yourself down a bit. It did taste amazing, but there was no point if you ended up throwing it up because you ate too quickly. Opening the packaging takes far less trouble this time, and you sigh as you take a smaller bite out of this one. You lean back against the wall as you chew, already beginning to feel some sort of energy trickling back into you.

Once you finish the second granola bar, you toss its wrapper onto the floor and slide down against the wall into a sitting position, the back of your hoodie riding up slightly. You lift the strap of your messenger bag over your head and toss it to the side wearily, bringing your knees up to your chest and crossing your arms over them, resting your head. Ugh. All that hustle and bustle from earlier had really worn you out.

You sigh. A calm sensation soon overtakes your body, and, before you know it, you feel your eyelid begin to droop down with weariness. Letting out a breath through your nose and closing your good eye, the muffled sound of the breeze outside and your own steady breathing are the only things you hear before you allow yourself to be pulled into darkness by the weight of sleep.

。。。

You awake with a start, snapping your head up and looking around rapidly. Oh fuck... did you fall asleep?

Rushing to get onto your feet, you snatch up your messenger bag and sling it across your shoulder as you gently open the door to peer outside. Dark orange shadows were being cast all along the road by nearby buildings and trees, and the sky was a faint yellow, edges of the clouds burning a bright orange.

“Fuck!” You curse softly, slowly exiting the building. Zombies would start coming out soon. Very soon. And you had to get back to your current living space before that happened. God-fucking-damn it.

“Sean, ya fucking idiot,” you growl, keeping eyes and ears open for any signs of danger as you begin hauling ass in the direction you came from. Your bag bounces up and down with the newfound weight of food in it as you sprint along, and you feel a knot twist in your stomach when you hear a guttural moan in the distance. You push yourself to run faster.

Twisting and turning through pothole-filled streets, it doesn't take long before you're already tired again, so you allow yourself a minute to stop and rest against a lamp post. You breathe heavily, head resting against the cool iron. Scattered moans and howls of awakening zombies are all around you, as well as a strange deep rumbling, further tightening the knot in your gut. Whatever that rumbling was, it couldn't be good. You needed to move.

Still tired but knowing you have no other choice, you brush your sweaty bangs off of your forehead and start to run again. Soon enough, familiar buildings pass you by as you jog, their rusted signs and ivy-covered brick walls offering a strangely welcoming atmosphere; you must be getting close.

That is, until you turn a corner and see the hoard of zombies from earlier blocking your way out.

The sound of your footsteps immediately alerts them of your presence, the majority of them turning to look at you with glowing dots that could only be described as pupils. _No, no, no,_ you think, scared. Despite them being several meters away from you, you still take a few instinctive steps backwards. You can't be fucking serious. Not again.

You grit your teeth and bound away from the group of man-eating corpses like a frightened rabbit. Echoes of their cries ring in your ears as they chase you down, switching you into panic mode. There had to be another way around, there had to be. And you needed to find it. Fast.

Whipping around the first corner you see, you find yourself in an alley crowded with abandoned cars and overturned wheely bins, among several other large objects blocking your way. You know you have no time to turn around, however, so you continue dashing through the alley, weaving in between the various obstacles. You sidle past the hood of a car, breath catching in your throat when you're suddenly pulled back by some unknown force.

“ _No, fuck-!_ ” You scream, twisting your head around to see what had grabbed you. Fortunately, it wasn't a zombie that had grabbed you, but the strap of your messenger bag that had gotten caught on the bumper of the car. Your breathing quickens even further when you see the group of undead at the end of the alley rushing towards you, and you just barely manage to free yourself and run away before a zombie swipes at you with its ragged fingernails. It's spit flies in your face as it shrieks at you, and you hurriedly wipe it off as you dart away.

 _I am dead, I am dead, I am_ so _fucking dead,_ you chant in your mind, the groans of the zombies becoming somewhat quieter as you emerge into a more open road. You glance to your left, wind sweeping your bangs to the side and the setting sun shining in your eyes.

And that's when you see it.

Standing just a few yards away from you and facing the opposite direction is a statuesque, masculine figure with a backpack on its shoulders and a height that was almost the exact same as yours. Your jaw drops, and just like that you forget about the group of zombies chasing you. Even from behind, even with the light shining in your eyes, and even with the backpack on...

There was no mistaking who it was.

Standing just a few yards away from you was your old friend, Mark Fischbach.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooo i bet u guys didnt see that one coming LOL plot twists for days (⌐■v■) *high fives self*
> 
> jk you probably did it was pretty obvious that was gonna happen lmao forgive me
> 
> anyways the next chapter will (hopefully) be a lot more exciting and a lot longer so make sure to stay tuned!


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